


The Emperor

by viciousmollymaukery



Series: Critical Tarot [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fantasy Racism, Fantasy Violence, Fjorclay vibes but nothing definitive yet, Implied/Mentioned Past Abuse, Multi, The Cerberus Assembly, even more Hurt/Comfort, more Planning and Plotting, what's sexier than wizards NOTHING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciousmollymaukery/pseuds/viciousmollymaukery
Summary: "This card represents stability and security, being in control of one's situation and taking charge of one's life. It indicates hard work, self control, and discipline."The Mighty Nein enter Rexxentrum to expose the Cerberus Assembly's wrongdoings. It goes exactly as a Mighty Nein plan would go, given their history.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & The Mighty Nein, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Series: Critical Tarot [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147757
Comments: 25
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Since this chapter is a little shorter, I'm gonna go ahead and post it now while I finish up the other two. They should go up sometime tomorrow or the day after, but what even is time anymore?
> 
> Also, spoilers for EGtW for basically this entire work. I spent about as much time flipping through pages and underlining things as I did actually writing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Caleb stared down the castle as the disguised Mighty Nein slowly made their way into Rexxentrum, the wheels of the cart clattering loudly over the cobblestones that made up the city’s streets. He understood now, why some people referred to the places they’d been to before as ‘old haunts’. The familiar sounds and smells around him certainly made him feel like a ghost. Granted, he’d spent most of his time in the city on the grounds of the Soltryce Academy, but being in these streets again was like walking through a dream. He found his gaze being drawn towards the Candles, to where _he_ lived, and further away from that, to where _she_ might be lurking at the ready for them.

But they would both be dealt with, in due time. And then, there could perhaps be a day he could walk through this city without feeling like he was drowning. His goals were still muddled, and obfuscated by the attachments he’d made with these people, but dealing with the presence of the Academy here was one that remained clear even now.

“Hey.” It was Beauregard, in disguise for now as a slightly less conspicuous human woman as she weaved her way over and crouched next to him. “You good? I mean, given all of...” She waved her hands through the air, indicating the city that had them enveloped in its maw. “This?”

He nodded, forcing himself to breath in and out. “Yes,” he exhaled. “I am, ah… keeping it together.”

She pursed her lips. “M’kay,” she said at last. “You know we’re all here, right? We actually have like, a plan and shit. And, uh, anyone _really_ _bad_ that tries to come after us doesn’t stand a fucking chance,” she reminded him, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it in that familiar, awkward way.

Caleb nodded again, covering her hand with his own and returning the gesture. “I do. That is, um… that is a large part of the reason I’m able to be here at all. And I’ve seen what this group can do. We’re going to be fine,” he repeated. They were going to be fine. They were going to be _fine._ Everything was under control, and they were going to be fine.

“Yeah.” Beauregard punched him, lightly by _her_ standards, on the upper arm. “We got this.”

Caleb took another deep breath, scratching lightly at the scabs that now covered his forearms. This would all be over soon. He hoped, selfishly, naively, that they wouldn’t have to deal with much of the fallout in the Empire and they could maybe go somewhere, anywhere else by the end of the day. For a brief instant, every atom in his body wanted to just ask Essek to Teleport them all away, back to Rosohna or Nicodranas or to the other side of Exandria, just as far away as from here as was physically possible. But it was too late now. There wasn’t anywhere in existence the Cerberus Assembly couldn’t find them.

And Caleb was weary. The necklace he wore at all hours felt more like a chain than ever before, seeming heavier each day. They needed to do this. This needed to be done.

The carts approached a split in the road. The Gentleman’s people went to the right, and they took the left route that led towards the more shadowy side of the castle, where they would have a few minutes to gather themselves and slip inside. Their narrow window was sliding shut even now, and they would have to act quickly or risk getting stuck in it.

“Nott,” Beauregard hissed, disappearing into the back of the cart. “Did you get the potions out?”

“Shit, shit, hold on.”

Caleb sighed impatiently and ducked back inside to see Veth demolishing the floorboards, ripping open the trapdoor and hauling out the crates of potions. Every second counted here, and he was getting tempted to actually start counting them.

“Shit, _fuck_ , okay, got it!” Veth pried open the lid of the crate she’d unlocked previously and it clattered to the floor with a loud _thud_. She started passing the potions around to everyone. “Okay, everyone gets one. Jessie, load up the Haversack just in case.”

Jester nodded, face uncharacteristically serious even under the Seeming spell, and started putting the potions in. As they all disembarked from the cart that had been their home for the past week and a half, she gave Eleanor a kiss on the snout. “Bye bye,” she said, scratching behind her ear, “hopefully we’ll see you soon and we won’t like, die horribly or whatever.”

Eleanor huffed and pawed her hoof against the ground, but had no insights to offer them in their venture.

The group quickly, discretely, made their way up to the castle. From the angle they had on the grounds and with Jester’s Pass Without Trace spell, they could slip in undetected and some of them could make sure the Assembly were leaving the castle when they approached King Dwendal. They stood their best chance if they could separate the mages from the crown, both figuratively and literally.

Veth quietly crouched and began picking the lock to the side gate, Caduceus scanning around them for any potential threats. It was still fairly early in the morning, but Rexxentrum was one of those unsleeping cities that seemed to be bustling at all hours. Thankfully, no one seemed to take note of the clinking of tumblers or creak of an old hinge as the group slipped inside the castle walls.

Caleb led the way, keeping them to the shadows as they snaked their way through the gardens towards a disused servants’ entrance. He had studied the castle and its inner workings extensively, and they’d taken the time to plot a route through a rarely visited area. Reaching the door that led into the building itself, they all ushered Veth forward, picks at the ready.

Veth went to work, muttering to herself the whole time. Jester started bouncing on the balls of her feet as the seconds ticked by, and Beauregard kept looking over her shoulder.

“Veth,” Caleb asked quietly, “is everything okay?”

“It’s _sticking_. This door is old, give me just a—” there was a snapping sound and Veth stepped back, holding the end of a broken lockpick in her hand. “Shit,” she whispered, eyes taking up half of her face. “Shit, shit, shit, we’re fucked, we’re all absolutely _fucked—_ _”_

“Hold on, don’t panic.” Beauregard stepped forward as she dug around in her belt pockets. “I have some old tools, let me give it a try.”

“If I couldn’t get it, then _you_ certainly can’t!”

“Oh come on, it’s not like anything _worse_ can happen,” she hissed, crouching in front of the doorknob. “Just keep an eye out and let me work.”

Veth threw her hands up in surrender and stalked back to keep watch. Caleb snapped Frumpkin into existence and sent him along as a second lookout. It took some time, time they didn’t have, but Beauregard eventually completed the task.

“Fuck yeah,” she said triumphantly as she stood up, hinges squeaking as the door swung open. “Add lockpicking and breaking into castles to the list of dope monk shit, y’all.”

“We’ll add it later Beau, sheesh! We need to go!” Jester practically barreled through the door. Caleb was hesitant to let her lead the charge, capable though he knew she was. This place could be home to all sorts of traps. This whole _thing_ could be a trap.

Redirecting his train of thought, he sent Frumpkin forward and placed a hand back on Beauregard’s shoulder, allowing her to guide him deeper into the castle. Through the cat, he couldn’t see much more than if he’d kept his own vision, but no traps sprung and no Scourgers jumped out of the shadows as he weaved past Jester’s feet and trotted ahead. The tunnel was poorly lit, but he could see a brighter light at the end that must lead to their destination. How poetic.

“There is, um, a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak,” Caleb whispered. “I think it leads to one of the kitchens, if my memory serves.” He snapped back into his own body as they all picked up the pace. Time was, as always, of the essence.

They reached the end of the corridor where another door was partially ajar. Opening it cautiously, Caleb caught sight of a fairly dusty room on the other side, its layout and inner furnishings resembling a long-forgotten kitchen of some sorts.

“We’re in luck,” he breathed as he stepped through and the rest of the Mighty Nein filed in behind him. “This part of the castle is mostly abandoned, so should have a clear path—”

There were several loud _CLANGS_ from the other side of the room and Caleb whirled around, heart in his throat and phosphorous at the ready, but he was greeted by the sight of Fjord tripping through several now-fallen pots and pans, eyes wide and sword in hand.

“Shit,” he said softly as the final pot slowly spun to a clattering stop at his feet. “Shit. I, uh, sorry. I was just looking around and everything just… went horribly and—”

“ _SHHHHH,”_ Jester hissed, dropping her symbol of The Traveler back down and pressing her finger to her lips.

No one spoke. No one moved. No one breathed. Caleb didn’t hear anything and, by the faces of his companions, he could tell they didn’t either. Slowly, everyone relaxed. It had been twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds since they’d split off from The Gentleman’s guards, and they couldn’t waste any more time.

“We need to keep moving,” Caleb exhaled. “Quickly, please, _now.”_

They all followed after him. His heart was still pounding, but more from the adrenaline of actually doing this than from the gut-wrenching panic of last night. He could stave that off for now. Time for that later.

This part of the castle did seem mostly empty, dust covered and devoid of all activity. Old paintings and moth-eaten tapestries lined the walls of the hallway they walked down. The wood that made up the doors of the few rooms they passed was rotten and decaying. It made him a bit sad, in a way. It was strange to think that all of these people were going about their day to day lives, and this place was just… here, left to waste away. Caleb knew what that was like, to be locked away and forgotten, no one wondering about you.

Finally, they rounded a corner and were facing the door that opened up into the more populated portion of the castle. Their plan was that a few of them would split off and loop around to make sure the Assembly wasn’t nearby, through a mixture of spells and scouting, while the others approached the throne room, where King Dwendal was doubtless holding court even at this early hour. Caleb didn’t like the idea of splitting the party, but it was really the only option they had that balanced both speed and stealth.

He eased open the door, thankful that it didn’t squeak too loudly as he peered through. The marble foyer was unoccupied, at least for the time being. Based on his internal map, the throne room was diagonally across the way.

“We’re nearly there,” Caleb breathed, closing the door again and sealing them all back in the abandoned corridor.

“Is this where we split off?” Jester asked quietly. The plan was, she, Fjord, and Veth would make their way around while Invisible, using a combination of See Invisibility and Locate Object to make sure the coast was clear before they went forward.

“Yes, I believe so,” Caleb said. “Here, hold on, each of you.” He took the time to cast Fortune’s Favor over the three of them, the need to give his friends an extra boost outweighing the need to move quickly, then stepped back.

“We’re good to go?” Fjord asked.

Caleb nodded, not fully trusting himself to speak. This was it. This was the point of no return. In just a few minutes’ time, his life might be taking a very different turn. One way or another, he’d be free.

“Alright. Let’s roll out!” Veth said.

Jester fingered her symbol and muttered a bit, concentrating on the Locate Object spell. Caleb was sure she was focusing on something inappropriate to find the Martinet, wherever he was. There was a significant chance the spell wouldn’t work, given the protections they had against such things, but she had been adamant on trying. Fjord activated the sword and Caleb cast Invisibility over the three of them, finishing the final preparations.

This would be the worst part, he thought as the group, presumably, departed. The waiting, the not knowing if they were captured, or dead, or something far worse. He trusted his friends and knew they could handle anything that was thrown their way, but the lack of knowledge was still driving him crazy.

Like the night before, a hand slipped into his own and squeezed it lightly. Caleb smiled, looking up at the disguised Essek, and returned the gesture.

“I’ll make myself discrete, but will stay close enough to Teleport everyone,” Essek reminded him. “Just in case.”

Caleb nodded. “Just in case,” he repeated. “Thank you.”

Eventually, Jester’s voice pierced through the sickening silence. _“Psst, Caleb! It’s Jester. We, um… well, the Assembly people just left the castle, so go ahead in and we’ll come and meet you inside—”_

There was no second message, but Caleb could only assume she meant the throne room. “Okay, we’ll start going into the throne room. We will see you soon. Stay safe, and be careful, please.”

He circled his finger in the air and pointed towards the double doors of the throne room, leading the way and pausing with his hand above the knob. With one more deep breath, Caleb turned it and they all stepped inside.

King Bertrand Dwendal, clearly in the middle of some discussions, looked up sharply at them as they approached, eyes narrowed. The guards instinctively reached for their swords and aimed their crossbows, but held as the king raised a hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” He called as the Mighty Nein made their way forward.

Caleb raised his own hands in the air in a placating gesture. “Your Majesty,” he said as he reached for the potion bottle and damning papers on his belt and held them up, “a moment of your time, please. This is a matter of great urgency, and I fear you and your family are in great danger.”

The King stared him down for a long moment, eyes narrowed. After twenty-eight seconds, he sighed deeply and leaned back into his chair, and Caleb could have collapsed with relief. “Very well then,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Start explaining yourselves.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fjord chapter! And this is perhaps the single most ridiculous sequence of events I've ever written, so. Enjoy!

Everything started falling apart almost immediately.

Fjord, thanks to his ability to See Invisibility from the trusty Star Razor, could still see Jester, Nott, and himself as they started slinking away from the rest of the Mighty Nein. He was grateful for the added boost from the Invisibility spell, as he wasn’t exactly the stealthiest creature to begin with, a point which was emphasized for the second time that day as he tripped slightly and twisted his ankle while they rounded the corner that led deeper into the castle.

“Jester,” he hissed, regaining his balance, “can’t you give us Pass Without a Trace?”

“I can’t do that and Locate the Martinet’s pants at the same time, remember?”

“Oh, shit, right.” Fjord shook himself. They’d gone over this plan plenty, but with the adrenaline pumping some of the details were slipping out of his brain, and focus had never really been his strong suit to begin with. “Well, let’s just keep going. Let me know if you get anything.”

“They have those weird fucking necklaces too,” she whispered as they rounded a corner. “I’m not even sure if I can.”

“We have an hour at least, either way,” Nott—no, _Veth_ muttered. “Let’s make the most of it.”

“We can’t take _that_ long,” Fjord reminded her. “We just need to do a quick sweep and make sure we’re back before it’s too late.”

“But if we don’t see them how are we going to know if it’s too late?” Jester demanded.

“Look, we’ll look around, okay? If we see something, then great, that’s fan-fucking-tastic. But if not, we need to just take the risk and get back,” he whispered.

They’d reached a door now, and something inside caught Fjord’s eye. Peering in a bit closer, he could see the symbol of the Assembly on a tapestry near the window. Stopping them all, he pointed inside and guided them all in there.

“Anything in here?” Fjord asked. He wasn’t sure of the specifics of how Jester’s magic worked, but perhaps being near something that was Assembly-related would help her focus.

“No, nothing,” Jester groaned. “The stupid spell gives me like a thousand fucking feet, but I still can’t see anything. I can’t even see where they’re not.”

“What the fuck does that mean? ‘See where they’re not?’”

Jester wrung her hands anxiously. “Like, okay, I tried Scrying on the king’s throne room while we were traveling, and when the Assembly people were in there they were like, a blurry spot, sort of. But now I’m not even getting _that.”_

“Well… maybe the Martinet is wearing different pants today,” Fjord offered in an attempt to put her at ease.

“You guys,” Veth hissed from where she’d wandered over to the other side of the room. “Get over here, I think I found something cool.”

“Nott,” Jester protested, “did you check for fucking traps?”

“Yes, I checked for fucking traps,” Veth snapped. “Now come here, both of you!”

She was holding a box, Fjord realized as he carefully stepped over, somehow not banging against any table legs or knocking over any chairs. She shook it gently and he could hear a single, heavy rattling sound, like a rock or something was in there.

“Think I should open it?”

Fjord deliberated for a moment. They really needed to stay on task, but... “There’s _no_ traps?”

Veth shook her head. “Nope, no traps.”

“Then I guess—”

“Guys, shush!” Jester hissed. “Did you hear that?”

They all froze. Fjord strained his ears and could make out multiple pairs of footfalls, making their way closer. His eyes widened and he looked back at the other two.

“Shit,” he said. “Shit, fuck, hide!”

They all pressed themselves against a wall near one of the bookshelves, Fjord with his back to the rough stone and Veth tucked under a window with her limbs askew. As fate would fucking have it, the three Assembly members whose lives they were currently in the active process of trying to ruin stepped through the door. He clamped his hand down over Veth’s mouth as she gasped, doing the same for Jester as she reflexively started to scream, and waited, pulling at that little opportunity from Fortune’s Favor to make absolutely sure he was hidden.

“...was foolish,” Vess was saying softly as she entered. She sat lightly against the edge of the table, blocking their view of where Veth had abandoned the box she’d been investigating. “We should have waited longer before sending them in. Tensions are still high with the Dynasty, the whole wretched city was bound to be on guard.”

“Worry not about the Crick,” Ikithon hissed. “I’ve dispatched more _Volstrucker_ this time to Rosohna. If it’s fled, they’ll track it down and finish the job, whatever it takes. They’re expertly trained, after all.”

Teeth scraped against Fjord’s palm as Jester’s face twisted, her whole body trembling with rage. Veth was glaring at Icky like she was calculating precisely how many crossbow bolts could fit between his eyes. A distinct shiver ran down Fjord’s spine at the whole conversation, and he was very, _very_ glad that he’d ended up going instead of Caleb, or this whole thing would _literally_ be going up in flames right now.

“And will that job still be the one we’ve agreed upon?” The Martinet asked, eyes narrowed, leaning carefully against the door frame. “We all know how desperate you get to acquire subjects for that _place_ of yours, Trent. We need Thelyss dead, not raving mad and withering away in some cell from your wretched experiments, _dead_.”

Ikithon smiled that thin, creepy smile. “Well, when you employ my services, I do reserve the right to take some liberties. But, fear not. I’m not one to, ah, _displease_ my colleagues, and I can put aside our professional disagreements. Death it is, at least this time around. Though, be warned,” he added, smiling again, “because the third time’s the charm.”

Fjord’s stomach twisted, and his arm tensed as he had to physically hold Jester back, her hands outstretched like she was trying to claw Icky’s icky face off. Veth had started shaking her head back and forth hard enough to almost knock him off balance, eyes wild with fear and hate. He was a little tempted to just call this whole thing off and let them both go fucking ape shit right here and now, because what Icky was talking about absolutely could not happen under any circumstances. Fjord still wasn’t sure what to make of the entire situation with Essek, but the solution to it was definitely _not_ _fucking that_.

Vess tilted her head sharply and narrowed her eyes. Fjord recognized the expression as that of someone who was receiving a message. “Hm. The latest shipment is here early, it seems.” She carefully stood, and Fjord almost missed it, but he noticed that the box was open and empty now. “We should see to it. Follow me.”

One by one, the Assembly members filed out of the room, and Fjord finally felt like he could actually breathe. He slowly lowered his hand from Jester’s mouth and raised his other hand from Veth’s, pulled the Star Razor out from under his arm, and they all carefully stepped forward.

Jester grabbed one of the pillows from the fancy looking couch and screamed into it, the sound thankfully mostly muffed. “I fucking _hate_ them,” she whisper-shouted when she lifted her head, breathing heavily. “They all need to fucking _die_ , they’re the worst fucking people _ever!_ I can’t _believe_ I almost offered to give him a tattoo!”

“I agree, but we should get back to the others now,” Fjord said, trying to calm her down a little.

“How are we supposed to go back to Rosohna now, Fjord?” She asked miserably. Her eyes were brimmed with tears. “If the Scourgers are already on their way—”

“We’ll deal with that later, okay? We really need to get moving,” he said, ushering them out. “Nott, can you send a Message to Caleb?”

“Sure.” Nott pulled out the familiar copper wire. “Caleb! We found the Assembly, they’re leaving now and walking straight into our trap! Start heading in, we’ll meet you there, you can reply to this Message!”

“Nott,” Jester whispered, sounding horrified, “Veth, I can _see_ you!”

Nott—Veth blinked and looked down at herself. “Shit. Shit, goddammit, I used a fucking spell! Shit!”

“Quick, just make yourself Invisible!” Fjord demanded.

“Okay, okay, fuck, hold on.” Veth quickly cast the spell on herself and presumably disappeared again, though Fjord could still see her.

“Did Caleb say anything back?” Jester asked.

“No, he didn’t… okay, they all must have been captured and—”

“ _Or,”_ Fjord interrupted, “they’re out of range of the spell.”

“No, I _definitely_ think they’ve all been imprisoned and it’s up to us to break them all out.”

“Okay okay okay, I’m going to send Caleb a message.” Jester cleared her throat and Fjord held up his fingers, awkwardly trying to keep balancing Dwueth’Var in his hands while he counted how many words she had left. “Psst, Caleb! It’s Jester. We, um… well, the Assembly people just left the castle, so go ahead in and we’ll come and meet you inside—”

“That’s twenty-five,” Fjord whispered.

Veth cleared her throat. “Jester, uh, _I_ can see _you_ now.”

“Ah, shit!” Jester threw up her hands in frustration, looking down at her dress.

“Are you fucking serious?” Fjord groaned. He really hoped the Wildmother wasn’t watching, because this was just plain embarrassing. _Was_ she watching all the time? He’d have to ask Caduceus later, when this bullshit was over and they could all finally relax over some tea.

“Okay, this whole thing is fucking stupid, fuck everything about this, I’m casting Pass Without a Fucking Trace.” Jester clutched her symbol and the shadows started almost wrapping around her, providing a somehow natural camouflage. The effect reminded Fjord faintly of the Hunger of Hadar spell, and it was a bit unnerving as _that_ reminded him of Uk’otoa. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Quickly, stealthily, they all made their way back towards the way they’d came. Fjord couldn’t see any of the others and figured they must be inside. The three of them would be able to hold things up out here, keeping watch in case the Assembly came back and making a path in case everything went to shit. So long as they stayed close to Jester, they could pull this off. They could do this, they were on top of things, everything was under control.

Fjord carefully stepped up to the door, pressing one ear against it. He could hear muffled voices, one that he was pretty sure belonged to Caleb, but couldn’t make out any specific words or phrases. He looked back to Veth and Jester with a shrug. “I guess it’s going okay?”

He blinked. Veth and Jester actually looked like Veth and Jester, and not the disguised personas they’d been wearing since sneaking into Rexxentrum. He looked down at his own hands and found them green and back to their half-orc appearance. The faint shimmer around his vision from the See Invisibility spell was gone as well. “Uh, are you guys… seeing this too?”

“Yeah,” Jester said softly, staring down at herself with her arms held out to the side. “Did Caleb drop Seeming?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t See Invisibility anymore either.” Fjord opened his palm and tried to summon an Eldritch Blast. Nothing. He did the same thing with Minor Illusion. Nothing. He flicked the Star Razor, but it was cold and dead in his palm, the faint magical buzz gone.

Fear crept up into his throat, making his heart pound and his hands shake. He recalled the times Uk’otoa had fucked him over and taken away his powers, how helpless and useless and literally _powerless_ he’d felt then. For one brief, panic induced instant, he wondered if the Wildmother turned away from him. Had she decided he wasn’t worth the effort of saving after all? Had he not been devout enough, not worked hard enough to protect what was hers, not been eager enough to spread her faith? No, he thought, that didn’t explain losing the Seeming illusion. Someone or something had to be suppressing their magic. Still, the sensation was as uncomfortable now as it had been before, making him feel vulnerable and exposed.

“What the fuck is—”

They all jumped back and slid into the shadows just as the doors swung open and the royal guards marched out, sharp and militant, spears pointing up towards the sky.

“Bring them here,” a creaky old voice shouted from within. Fjord recognized it faintly as belonging to King Dwendal from the time they’d met him. “Lock down the city, no magic, no traffic in and out, nothing!”

He turned to Jester and gave her a thumbs up. “I guess it really is going okay!” He whispered with a grin. She beamed, throwing her arms around him and squeezing with all her might. Damn, would they actually pull this off?

Fjord carefully opened the door again and stepped inside, leading the other two in. The throne room was as he remembered it, and the king looked up with a suspicious glance as the three of them entered, an expression Fjord was all too familiar with from his time in the Empire as a half-orc.

“And these are more of our associates,” Caleb said, gesturing towards them as they stepped forward. “They have also been instrumental in uncovering this plot.”

The King stroked his chin in an almost comically maniacal display. “I see. Well, then, allow me to extend my thanks.”

“Aw, you’re super duper welcome,” Jester cooed, grinning and clasping her hands together.

Fjord cleared his throat before she could offer him a cupcake or do something to lose the small nugget of respect they seemed to have earned here. “Yes, we appreciate the sentiment. If I may be so bold as to ask, just out of curiosity, does this—” he gestured around the room— “anti-magic effect extend very far, or…?”

The King inclined his head. “I am not a complete fool. I’ve been prepared that one day, those closest to me may betray me. This—” he extended a hand outwards in a sweeping gesture— “was built to encircle the city, blocking all magic within it. Once the offending Assembly members are safely within custody, it will dissipate.”

Ah. That explained it. Still, Fjord felt that uncomfortable prickling in his chest that had come with being rendered magic-less in the past. This city was growing on him like mold, or a more unpleasant fungus than the ones Caduceus tended to.

“I see,” Fjord said, trying not to sound too bitter. “Well, it’s, uh, certainly effective,” he smiled.

He was spared from making a bigger fool of himself when the doors to the throne room swung open, and an ornately, militantly dressed human stepped forward flanked by guards. “My liege,” they said, lowering down on one knee before the throne, head tilted, “the Martinet and Master Ikithon are currently in custody, and being escorted back to the castle, as well as the fleet of Scourgers that live within the city. But unfortunately, it seems that Lady Vess de Rogna has fled from Rexxentrum before we could ensnare her.”

Fjord’s heart soared and then sank. They’d gotten two of the three, and the two they’d gotten were arguably the more dangerous, but this was still disappointing. He glanced over at Caleb, whose face was still carefully blank and diplomatic. There’d be time to process all of this later, there was still work to be done.

The King nodded again. “I see. Excellent work nonetheless, Crown Marshal. Dedicate all of our resources to tracking her down within the Empire, leave no stone unturned from Nogvurot to Trostenwald.”

The Crown Marshal stood, fancy medals clinking. “If I may, my liege, she’s most likely at one of the Assembly strongholds. Eiselcross, most likely, though I’m sure our attempts to locate her personally will come up empty.”

Caleb cleared his throat. “If _I_ may, Your Majesty.” He stepped forward again. “We are very personally attached to seeing this through, I will not deny that. The full force of the Empire’s militia bearing down on her would probably make her panic. If you require some additional, more specialized aid in this… well, I will not deign to speak for everyone here, but—”

“If you want our help, we can totally go kick her ass and bring her back here,” Jester interrupted, crossing her arms. “She really seems like she sucks.”

The others nodded at that. Yasha gripped the Magician’s Judge almost ceremoniously, and Caduceus hefted his staff. Fjord would have done something cool with the Star Razor for flare, but, well, no _fucking_ magic.

The King studied them for a moment. Fjord was pretty sure he thought they were all crazy. After all, what attachment would a ragtag group of mercenaries have towards dismantling this institution? But he sighed, apparently satisfied that their intentions were good, or at least not evil.

“Very well,” he creaked, turning back to the Crown Marshal. “This… group will lead the charge. Hold back on dispatching the full navy northward for now, until they can produce some results. I can imagine that they have some means of handling this matter more subtly.”

“Yeah,” Beau piped up, “subtlety is definitely our specialty.”

“Oh, absolutely it is,” Veth said as well.

Good grief, they were all going to die, weren’t they? Fjord cleared his throat again. “Your Majesty,” he began, trying to smooth things over, “we would be happy to deal with this, or at least help your people—” he gestured to the Crown Marshal, who was studying them all very carefully— “track de Rogna down and deal with her without causing too much of a disturbance.”

“Excellent. And do you require transportation northward to Eiselcross?”

Jester shook her head. “Nah, we have our friend Ess—”

“ _M_ _agical means,”_ Fjord interrupted loudly, elbowing her, “of getting places, we have just, uh, _plenty_ of that, but thank you very much for the offer, we do _greatly_ appreciate it.” Best _not_ to name the drow from the Kryn Dynasty that had been helping them through this entire thing and was presumably hiding somewhere in the walls of the castle in the middle of the Empire’s capital city.

King Dwendal didn’t seem to pick up on Fjord’s quick steering of the conversation. “Well, then, you are welcome to stay in the city for the day to prepare, and you will be given the most excellent accommodations that Rexxentrum has to offer.”

“Oh, thanks,” Beau said, “but, uh, I’m a member of the Cobalt Soul, actually. So we should kinda have that covered.”

Smart move. If they accepted the King’s offer, doubtless their every move would be watched intently, as they had been when they’d first arrived in the Dynasty. But Fjord wasn’t sure how happy King Dwendal would be about that.

“Please,” he said, as Fjord as expected, “I insist. Allow me to repay you all a portion for the service you have done me.”

Repay. An interesting spin on the situation, but no matter. Fjord could sense the faint undercurrent, the _‘I don’t_ _fully_ _trust these people and I’m going to keep an eye on them’_ that was going through his head.

“Your Majesty,” Caleb spoke up, “I do hope I am not overstepping by asking this, but… what will happen to the Cerberus Assembly’s members?”

The King sighed, and Fjord wasn’t entirely sure that the sound wasn’t a final death rattle. “The two we’ve caught today will be imprisoned, stripped of their magic, and interrogated until the full extent of their wrongdoings is known. Then, I can imagine they will be put to death for their crimes of treason against the Crown. The ones that are not present will be recalled back to Rexxentrum so as to ascertain the nature of their involvement. If they are found innocent, they will be sent on their way. The guilty parties’ holdings and titles are considered forfeit to the Crown, though I can imagine it will take some time to unravel everything and decide what to do with the specifics.”

“Well, um…” Caleb hesitated for a moment. “I...I do not know how much _you_ know of the goings-on of the Soltryce Academy here in Rexxentrum, but I am very familiar with them. Again, I-I do not mean to be presumptuous, but I would ask, if it’s not too much trouble, to be, ah... kept in the loop, so to speak, in terms of what happens to it and the students who currently attend it.”

The King nodded. “That can certainly be done, given everything that has transpired.”

Caleb inclined his head, almost bowing. “Thank you, sire. I—we are very thankful to you.”

“Of course. Now,” King Dwendal clapped his hands, and a handful of the guards surrounding them stepped forward. “My men will escort you to your lodgings for the evening. If you should require anything, either for your stay or for your journey, let them know and they will send word to me.”

“Thank you,” Fjord said. “Again, we appreciate your help, and we look forward to seeing this matter finished.”

“As do I,” the King rasped, his however-fucking-many years suddenly seeming to weigh on him. “Now—” he gestured towards the door— “I suddenly have quite a lot to handle, so I would ask that you all take your leave.”

“Of course,” Caleb said quickly. “We wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Bye-bye!” Jester waved as they all started turning towards the door. Fjord risked a quick once-over at the guards that were escorting them, and while they seemed ‘at the ready’, they didn’t seem hostile. Yet.

Once they were out in the streets, Fjord felt a sort of shimmer pass over him. The sword in his hand seemed to thrum back to life, and he chanced a small Minor Illusion of a little bird in his hand. Relief turned his knees to jelly when it appeared, and he stared at it for the full minute, then cast it again when the time was up. The field was gone, his powers were back, and nothing horrible had happened in the interim. Thank the Wildmother, he thought, feeling a sharp pang of guilt for having doubted her.

Fjord re-cast the cantrip for a third time as the road they were on started slowly curving to the left, bringing them towards the inn that was meant to be their destination. He was too fixated on the bird to bother checking the name as they strode in and Jester immediately started making their situation and the fact that they were _like, totally heroic and super badass_ _Assembl_ _y_ _taker-downers_ _and stuff_ known to the poor innkeeper.

The guards left them to their own devices once they were settled into the common room, and there was a flash of movement in Fjord’s peripheral vision as he collapsed in one of the leather chairs before the fire. He whipped his head around to see Beau swinging her fist into the shadows.

“ _Ow,”_ a familiar indignant voice hissed as Essek stepped into view, one hand pressed to cover his face where Beau had punched him in the nose. “It’s _me_ , Beauregard!” A thin trickle of bluish blood leaked through his fingers.

“Oh shit,” she said, lowering her hands. Fjord couldn’t tell if she actually felt guilty or if she’d maybe intentionally met her mark. Maybe it was a bit of both. “Uh, sorry man, my bad, we’re all a little on edge right now. Jes, can you—”

Jester was already marching over, casting Cure Wounds while immediately launching into a tirade. “Essek, _holy shit,_ you are not going to _believe_ what we heard!”

She continued relaying their separate mission back to everyone, standing before the fire and acting out the various parts like it was a theater—no, not a theater, The Traveler had made holding a disdain for that particular art one of his tenets back at TravelerCon. A performance then, surely that term would assuage the whimsical deity.

“And then we realized ‘whoa, wait a second, all the magic is fucking gone’ and then the guards came out and we went inside and we saw all of you and we talked to the King and now we’re here and I’m telling you all about it,” Jester finished in a single breath before bowing dramatically with one arm swept over her head. Yasha, Veth, and Beau clapped appreciatively.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Jester said as she stood upright with a _huff_ , straightening her clothes. “But yeah, that was everything. Wait, did we ever actually find out what was in that fucking box?”

Shit! The box. “Shit! The box,” Fjord exclaimed, snapping to attention. “Yes, when she—when de Rogna left, the box was empty. I guess she took whatever was in it and maybe used it to help escape?” He wasn’t sure what it could have been, but it was the only thing that really made sense.

“There are arcane items that can allow such an exit,” Caleb said grimly, “but I am more intrigued by the conversation you overheard, to be frank.” His arms were crossed, but Fjord could see even from the other side of the room that his fists were clenched so tightly they were shaking.

“If there are indeed more Scourgers on the way to Rosohna,” Essek said, wiping away the last of the blood from his face, “then they’ll start on the trail that will end up leading them back here. Though, I hope that once word of the Cerberus Assembly’s downfall begins to spread, they will, ah…” He laughed nervously, the way one might when they had an elite force of wizard assassins hunting them down. “Abandon their target.”

Caleb shook his head, staring down at the floor. “They won’t,” he said softly. “I fear that the only thing we can do is wait them out, until they reveal themselves, and hope that they don’t catch us too unawares.”

“Or we could lure them,” Beau suggested. “You cool with being bait, Essek?” She asked, one eyebrow raised in a smirk.

“Or we could hide and disguise you so they can’t find you,” Jester offered. “Like, I could dye your hair, or—” She gasped, face lighting up with manic glee. “I COULD GIVE YOU A TATTOO!”

“Bait is fine,” Essek said quickly, looking understandably panicked, “bait is perfectly okay.”

“Well, maybe let’s not start any hunting until tomorrow at least,” Caduceus said, bringing over a large tray of teacups and a steaming pot. “I’ve got the Stranton siblings ready here if everyone wants to calm down a little.”

Fjord eagerly took his cup and drank it down. It was maybe a degree or two from absolutely scalding his insides, but the ritual of tea drinking itself was calming enough and banished the lingering anxiety in his chest from being without magic again.

Everyone slowly unwound with the tea being passed around. They discussed the geography of Eiselcross and where they should best go first. Fjord had heard about the northern island chain only in passing, and he’d never actually sailed up there himself. From what he understood of it, it was a bizarre, icy place that was only of any interest to anyone outside of it because the ruins of one of those fancy floating cities from a long time ago had been found there. Of course the Cerberus Assembly would jump on that sort of thing.

“There _is_ a Dynasty outpost there, north of one of the larger islands, though I’m not sure how helpful they might end up being,” Essek offered. “They may be able to offer us some semblance of aid, but their presence is largely one of a religious motive rather than a militaristic one.”

“Well, if de Rogna is anywhere up there, I think she’s gotta be either at this Balenpost place or hiding somewhere in the Aeor crash site.” Beau tapped the tiny dots on the newer, sleeker, just all around better map she’d bought that was currently spread over the coffee table. “I’ve heard rumors of the Empire having some spies in the first one, since, ya know, the Assembly is shifty and all. I don’t know if—what’s the name of the Dynasty place?”

“Vurmas,” Essek supplied.

“I don’t know if Vurmas is gonna be all that helpful. I think we stand a better chance of sneaking into Balenpost and getting in touch with these spy people, then we can probably figure out where she’s hiding and take her down.”

“We can ask the guard people to tell us who the spies are,” Jester suggested. “Or like, ask them what super secret alley some shady person lurks in and they can give us the name if we use a secret codeword, or something like that.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly how it’ll go, Jessie,” Veth said.

“If it’s spies, I’m betting the Augen Trust people are involved,” Beau muttered as if they hadn’t spoken. “The Cobalt Soul has had eyes on them for a while. I kinda wanna exchange information, compare notes…”

“Who are you talking to?” Fjord asked, goading her just a bit.

“No one. My fucking self. Shut up!” She smacked him with her notebook. “I’m gonna take initiative and go figure this shit out, y’all are welcome to join me if you want!” Beau started stomping out the door with her middle finger up in the air.

It took a lot of smoothing over, and more than a little wandering aimlessly through the streets of the now chaotic city, but they eventually managed to secure a meeting for the following day with the spymaster currently in Balenpost, as well as stock up on some supplies for the journey northward. Fjord didn’t care much for the shopping, but endured it anyway.

And, he was sure that most of the Mighty Nein noticed him occasionally Minor Illusioning a small bird in his hand over and over once they returned and settled in for the evening, but was grateful every time they said nothing.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! My life is a mess and writing this is keeping me sane, so stay tuned because there should be more in a few days at the most.
> 
> Enjoy!

The sudden dropping of the anti-magic field over much of the city had been quite a shock to Essek’s system, but decades of treading quietly through the halls of the Thelyss estate and the Lucid Bastion as well as his subsequent years as Shadowhand had left him with an instinct for keeping himself hidden even without magical means. He’d been concentrating on his own spell too when the ward had been activated, a desperate, vain, selfish attempt to Locate the Beacon that had been found within the Empire, but had come up empty. He imagined that, if it had been in the city at all, it was either too well hidden for him to find even with magical means or de Rogna had taken it with her when she fled.

Essek still wanted it, wanted whatever scraps of research that could be found once their towers were torn asunder and their names nothing more than an inky dark stain upon Wildemount’s history. He didn’t want to want it, not after all the hurt it had caused his friends, but he did. The secrets it held, the potential power and knowledge that lurked just under its glowing surface, was as whispering and alluring as it had been his since he’d first gazed into its depths. He would tear it apart if it would mean that he could understand it.

Eiselcross was going to be a particularly tricky Teleportation destination. Essek had never been there, though he had witnessed the fleet of ships depart to establish the Vurmas outpost. There were quite a lot of ways that this could go wrong, which was why he spent the evening diligently studying every map and book he had at his disposal on the northern islands. Additionally, Beauregard had paid a quick visit to the Cobalt Soul in the city and had been allowed to take some documentation on the area back with her.

“We can’t just jump straight into Balenpost is the problem,” she was saying now as she dumped a pile of scrolls over the table where Essek was working into the evening hours. “We don’t know who’s Empire and who’s Assembly. Can you get us like, nearby? But not _too_ far, because then we might freeze to death, but not like, too close—”

“I will certainly do my best,” he interrupted, trying to straighten out the papers, “though, as you have already experienced before, it can be a difficult spell to precisely control, and I can make no promises.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I totally hear you. Just, here.” Beauregard grabbed some of the maps and started making markings. Essek stepped back with a slight sigh, letting her work. “Okay, _here_ it is, can you get us here? This is where the spy people should be meeting us.” She tapped a small spot maybe a mile or so outside of Balenpost.

“I can try,” he offered, “but, truly, I cannot say definitively. And odds are, it will not work perfectly.” Speaking the second sentence, the admittance of imperfection of any sort, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Well, I still don’t trust the Empire people well enough to actually get us there, let alone on time, so it looks like we’re stuck with you.” Beauregard dropped the map back down and stared at her scattered papers, hands on her hips.

“How tragic,” Essek said flatly.

“Aw, shit, you know that’s not what I—okay, look, can we just call a truce until this is all completely over?” She asked, exasperated. “You did kinda put your ass on the line for us, or whatever, so can we just. I don’t know, shake on it?” She extended a hand.

Essek narrowed his eyes, but accepted the handshake. Her grip was incredibly strong, and he had to hide a slight wince. “Very well,” he said. “A truce it is.”

“Alright, cool. Glad to hear it.” She started picking up her papers, hopefully to finally give him some peace and quiet, but paused. “Aren’t you worried at all? That they’ll expose you, now that they’re captured?”

Essek sighed heavily. “The thought has crossed my mind, yes.” It had been one of the only thoughts crossing his mind lately. “Our interactions were tinged by an understanding of mutually assured destruction for years. I can imagine that they’ve lost whatever credibility they had with the Empire as a whole, however, and I’ve been careful to cover my tracks.”

“Well, not quite careful enough. If you’re caught and face trial, I don’t know what will happen if we’re called to like, serve as witnesses or some shit.”

“I likely will not ‘face trial’ if I am discovered, Beauregard,” he laughed, because it was funny, right? “I will be executed the moment it’s sanctioned by the Umavis and that will be the end of it. I could, perhaps, manage to convince them to give me one, given my standing in the court, but I don’t see it going very well for me, given that I _am_ guilty.”

“Oh. Shit, okay.” She blinked.

“So, fear not,” he continued. “They may ask you all some questions in that situation, but not anything that could potentially compromise you. And I would not ask that you all lie for me, or otherwise put yourselves at risk.” Essek turned back to the books in front of him, hoping that was enough information to keep her at bay for the time being. He did mean what he said, but this particular outcome was not one he enjoyed considering, necessary though it sometimes was.

Beauregard shrugged. “Alright. Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, then. Our record with jailbreaks is a bit spotty.”

It was his turn to be surprised, but she had already turned to leave, shouting loudly for Jester to come help her with something. He almost wanted to laugh again. They stood little to no chance of rescuing him from the Dungeon of Penance if it _did_ come to that. Essek knew all about those cavernous halls and the horrors that lurked there. He’d designed some of them himself.

Essek shook himself, trying to concentrate again on the map Beauregard had left with him. Balenpost was already tiny, really more of a camp than an actual village or town. There was supposedly a laboratory there as well, and he shuddered to think just what kind of research the Assembly had been doing so far from the sight of humanity. Yes, Teleporting them all somewhere nearby was definitely the safest route. It would be difficult to pinpoint the exact location down, but perhaps if he could get a better picture…

A hand lightly touched the back of his shoulder and he quickly raised his head. Caleb stared down at him, smiling slightly when he looked up.

“It’s twelve forty-eight,” he said quietly.

Essek blinked, dropping his quill and tearing his gaze away to look around at the now dark and empty common area. “Is it really?”

“Yes, it is,” Caleb laughed softly. “I understand if you would prefer to continue concentrating on this—” he indicated the books and papers that were strewn over the desk— “but could you at least eat something?” He produced from his other hand a covered bowl of whatever Caduceus had made them all for dinner.

“Thank you,” Essek said, taking the dish and the requisite silverware from him. The broth of the stew was still warm, the taste unfamiliar but not unpleasant, distinctly _un_ -Xhorhasian and reminiscent of somewhere very different indeed.

Caleb sat in the chair next to him and scanned over the books, absorbing the information from the scribbles in their margins and the regions of Eiselcross they portrayed. “Has Beauregard settled on a final destination, then?”

Essek nodded, setting the spoon down and moving the bowl to the side. “About a mile southwest of Balenpost is what I’m supposed to aim for.” He laced his fingers together. “To call accounts of the landscape there _varied_ would be an understatement,” he sighed, “but I believe I have a decent mental image of the area.”

Suddenly tired, Essek rested his chin against one propped up palm and looked over at Caleb. He was still staring down at the maps, but his blue gaze was somewhere far distant. He was fiddling with the necklace he wore, turning the stone hanging from it over in his fingers, working his lower lip between his teeth.

Essek smiled, already piecing together what was going on inside his head. “Or,” he said lightly, “I could just drop us in the nearby sea and we can swim to shore. It would get the inevitable hypothermia out of the way, if nothing else, and I can imagine Beauregard and Veth would enjoy racing.”

Caleb nodded absently, then blinked a few seconds later and snapped back to reality. “Sorry,” he said, dropping his gaze and the pendant. “I am, ah, a bit distracted.”

“I understand,” Essek said softly. He fell silent, waiting for Caleb to say as much or as little as he wanted.

It was a few moments before Caleb finally spoke. “This,” he said quietly, gesturing vaguely around him, “all of this, it—well, I guess it just has not quite sunken in yet.” He paused, laying his hands together on the table in front of him. “I… would be lying if I said I had not imagined killing… killing _him_ in quite brutal, creative ways,” he whispered. “I had pictured something a bit more poetic and a bit less political, foolish as that may sound.”

Essek nodded as he spoke, studying him carefully. “Well,” he sighed, reaching forward and gently placing a hand on his, “I don’t think you could ever sound foolish. Things rarely wrap up so neatly, in my experience.” He hesitated for a moment, trying to think of how best to phrase what he wanted to say next. “If… the King may be willing to let you all be witness to their executions, once we return with Lady de Rogna, if that is something you desire.”

Caleb squeezed his hand, still staring off into space. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “I… I don’t know yet if that’s what I am seeking. A part of me just wants to be done with it all.” He raised his other hand to hold the pendant again, looking down at it. “And yet,” he laughed bitterly, “I still can’t seem to take this off.”

Essek carefully lifted his other hand, extending it forwards. “May I see it?”

Caleb nodded and passed the pendant over to him, the chain long enough that he could look closer without issue. Essek examined it closely, noting the smooth, brownish orange color and symbol of a closed eye emblazoned on it. He recognized it as an Amulet of Proof, designed to shield the wearer from divination magic and keep them hidden from prying eyes.

“I could hold onto it for you,” Essek offered before he even realized he was going to. “Perhaps for the night, or even just for a few minutes, if you would like.” He knew the level of trust that something like that would entail, given the nature of the object, but his need to help Caleb in some way overshadowed any worries he had about overstepping and infringing upon that trust.

Caleb looked up at him, then back down at the stone in his fingers, repeating the motion back and forth a few times, likely pondering the same matters that Essek was. Then, Caleb slowly took the necklace off from around his neck and placed it into Essek’s outstretched palm, wrapping Essek’s hand with both of his and curling his dark purple fingers tightly around the stone. It was still warm to the touch, the faint magical hum resonating deep into his bones.

Caleb stared at their hands for another long moment before slowly letting go, exhaling and seeming to both deflate and sit a little higher at the same time. “You’re not planning to run off, are you?”

Essek smiled. Caleb had to ask, of course, and it didn’t really bother him. “Hand to my spellbook,” he said, raising his other hand while he tucked the Amulet into one of his coat pockets, “I will not be fleeing anywhere.” There was nowhere in Exandria he would rather be right now, dangerous though this city could be for him.

“That… _is_ reassuring to hear,” Caleb sighed, taking another deep breath.

“If you want it back at any point, just let me know and it’s yours,” Essek said softly. “Or you can just grab it,” he added, tapping the pocket where he’d placed it.

“I don’t. Not right now anyway.” Caleb yawned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Bedtime, then?” Essek suggested.

“Ja, I think so.”

Essek carefully rearranged the papers and sent the empty bowl back to the kitchen before joining him, bringing along a few of the books on Eiselcross to pass the extra time that arose from the disparity in their sleeping needs. Caleb curled around him almost as soon as he laid down, his head on Essek’s chest and arms looped around his waist. Essek sent up his own Dancing Lights, dimming them to a soft glow in each corner of the surprisingly large room. Frumpkin’s interest was immediately piqued and he took to jumping up at the one closest to the door, tail flicking over the flagstone floor when he fell back down.

“Frumpkin,” Caleb muttered in warning, raising his head, “you are being rude, stop that.”

Frumpkin mewed with what Essek could have sworn was indignation, but padded over and jumped up on the foot of the bed, sitting down and licking his paw.

Caleb settled back down with a sigh. “Now, behave yourself.”

“He’s fine,” Essek murmured, running his fingers through Caleb’s hair and beckoning Frumpkin forth with his other hand.

“He is being naughty,” Caleb grumbled as the cat bounded forward and playfully pawed at Essek’s hair, sprawling out on his pillow.

“Aren’t cats like that naturally?” Essek asked as Frumpkin swatted at his earring, claws snagging in the silver chain. He hadn’t had any childhood pets growing up. It would have been _unbecoming_ for the child of the Umavi to spend his time indulging such frivolous pursuits.

“You spoil him,” Caleb admonished lightly, scooting a little closer. The difference in their heights made the angle he was lying on a little awkward, but Essek was more than happy to serve as a pillow. “He is going to end up liking you more than me.”

“Well, I can’t help it,” Essek said, scratching under Frumpkin’s chin. “And I have a vague, half-asleep memory of you promising him treats when we got here.”

“Hm, I did, didn’t I?” Caleb’s eyes drifted shut as Essek tucked a stray strand of hair back behind his ear. “Well, I will give him an excellent breakfast in the morning.”

“That seems like a fair compromise,” Essek whispered, though Caleb had mostly drifted off by the time he finished the sentence. He started quietly humming, a comforting tune he’d occasionally hear drift through the streets of Rosohna rather than one of the frankly dreary hymns of praise written for the Luxon that would echo through the Lucid Bastion during periods of worship.

Once Caleb was snoring, he carefully reached over to his coat, unceremoniously discarded by the book covered nightstand, and pulled the necklace from its pocket, lost in thought. An Amulet of Proof… Essek knew fractions of Caleb’s past, disparate pieces he’d gleaned from what the wizard had told him and from what he himself had observed. He was curious of course, but had no plans of pressing for any information on that front that was not offered up to him. Essek had already caused him more than enough pain, and one of the last things he wanted was to throw more wood on that proverbial fire. Whatever Caleb chose to share or keep secret was entirely up to him. There were certain specifics to his own past that he would prefer to keep close to his chest as well, though the Mighty Nein might insist on prying every bit of information he had out from his jaws at some point.

For a brief, fleeting instant for which he would forever feel guilty, Essek wanted to run. Teleport somewhere far away where he could hide forever and where maybe continue his research and where these people he had so strangely grown to care for wouldn’t be in danger because of him. He had the means to ensure he would never be found in his hands right now, all it would only take letting its magic settle over him and a quick incantation and he could be—

No. _No._ He’d promised he’d stay. He’d promised he’d work towards building something better from the pieces he’d shattered half of the continent into for his own selfish gains. He wanted to keep that promise, he did. It was going to be a hard, difficult journey and he may not ever truly reach whatever destination of goodness these people hoped for him, but for their sake he had to at least _try_ because he owed them that much after all the damage he’d done to them.

So instead of running, he kept staring at the Amulet for a long time, and then quietly drifted off to sleep.


End file.
